


Ripe Apples, Frankincense, and Tea

by RembrandtsWife



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Darcy Lewis, Alpha Females, Alpha Peggy Carter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Bucky Barnes, F/M, Female Alphas, Fisting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Steve Rogers, Omega Verse, Scent Kink, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy doesn't really know enough about Jane's work to justify being kidnapped. She does, however, know how to take care of an omega in heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripe Apples, Frankincense, and Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aenaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/gifts).



> I started this on a lark as a gift for Aenaria, to console her after a hard week at work. It took me almost three weeks to write. *g* But I have finally completed a Steve/Darcy fic, after two years of reading the pairing! Thanks to [DizzyRedhead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyRedhead/pseuds/DizzyRedhead) for beta!

"I don't know what they think I can do for them," Darcy said for the umpteenth time. "All I did for Jane was data entry, really. And babysitting. Making her eat, making her drink water, making her sleep. You know why she's so little? Because she doesn't *eat*." She pointed an emphatic finger at Steve as if poking an invisible Jane Foster in the chest.

"Speaking of eating--" Steve gestured to her plate. "I don't mean to rush you, Darcy, but--yeah, I do mean to rush you. We gotta get you out of town."

She looked down at her half a bacon cheeseburger and barely touched curly fries. "I'll ask the waitress for a box."

Ten minutes later they were in the steel gray SUV, driving north. Steve didn’t like SUVs. They felt simultaneously too big and too small, even though he had plenty of head and leg room. Truth to tell, he hadn't yet driven a 21st-century car he really liked. Maybe he was still waiting for Tony to perfect his dad's flying car, in which case, he was gonna have to wait a long time. He and Bucky had thought the future would mean flying cars, not tiny computers you could fit in your pocket. Oh well.

Darcy had basically not stopped talking in the last hour. It hadn't stopped her from eating. Steve felt slightly queasy and hungry at the same time, not to mention irked. He liked Darcy, although he didn't know her very well, but tonight she was really getting on his nerves. Which was unfortunate, because his job was to get her into a safe house and keep her there while the rest of the team went after the idiot hackers who thought she had all Dr. Foster's secrets under her woolly hat. She just wouldn't stop talking, and he hadn't eaten enough back at the diner and he couldn't stop smelling her french fries and feeling queasy--

He had to keep his foot from slamming on the brake when he realized it.

Darcy had gotten over the whole CAPTAIN AMERICA thing pretty quickly. For her Cap's career wasn't comic books and pop culture; it was tied up with history and politics, SHIELD and Hydra, and a lot of pretty shady stuff, for all that Steve Rogers had always been a man with a lot of integrity. Getting over the "OMG he's hot" part had taken her longer; she'd never really gone for big muscles or blond hair (unlike Jane), but Steve pretty much transcended petty personal preferences. He was pretty enough to turn the head of any gender or dynamic.

Eventually, though, she'd started seeing Steve as just another guy. Who happened to be really handsome and to have first seen the light of day in, what, 1918, but hey. He was just another guy that you could like on his own merits, not because he was an important historical figure or an actual superhero. He liked big band music and different kinds of jazz and had political opinions that were still progressive. He ate enough for two or three guys at a sitting and never questioned a girl's desire for dessert. He had a funny combination of old-fashioned manners and genuine respect for women as actual people in their own right. She'd never met an alpha like him.

Of course, that was because Steve Rogers wasn't actually an alpha. 

She didn't notice what was happening until she had finished her cheeseburger and fries and opened up the car window for some fresh air. It was kind of chilly, well, more like cold out, but she needed to blow off the fried food smell, and she also wanted to stay awake, which the cold air would help with. Steve hadn't been saying very much, just driving; she tended to realize too late that she was talking too damn much and getting on people's nerves, she had probably gotten on his nerves, too.

Pulling out her phone, she pulled up her Kindle app and snuck a sidelong glance at Steve by the glow of the phone. Yeah, he was kind of grinding his teeth over there, making that magnificent jawline stand out even more than usual. Slouching down in her seat as much as the seatbelt would let her, Darcy opened the latest book in the billionaire alpha series that was her current guilty pleasure and dove into the story.

This author was a good writer; her fic was full of vivid details, not just in the descriptions of clothes and parties and luxurious houses, but in the sex scenes, too. She was not, however, so good that Darcy usually scented omega pheromones while she was reading. Which she was scenting right now, on the highway to wherever, with the window open. And Darcy was not an omega.

"Oh my god!" she blurted, clapping her hand over her nose. "You're an omega!"

"Yeah." A muscle twitched in Steve's jaw. "And I'm going into heat."

"Oh my god, Steve, what. What."

"Don't panic." He took an exit and slowed down as they hit the curving off-ramp. The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. "I can get you to the safe house before it really hits. And then--I'll deal with it."  
Back in his day, you didn't talk about these things. People got along by feel and smell; they paired up and got married and you didn't ask what a couple's dynamics were, whether it was two women or two men or a man and a woman. People gossipped, of course, and disapproved (they'd've disapproved of him and Bucky getting married, a   
sickly omega who shouldn't be allowed to breed and a beta who could certainly do better), but not in public, not in casual conversation. He still couldn't help but feel that talking about things made it worse. Darcy had scented him and just blurted it out and now he could scent her, a warm spicy odor of female alpha. It made him want to squirm just a little.

He was a soldier. He was on a mission. He did not squirm.

The safe house was one of Clint's places, hidden away in upstate New York. Steve knew from the mission specs that it was generously stocked with food, clothing, weapons, and ammo. Whether it would have any supplies to help him deal with an unexpected heat was another question. How had he lost track of his cycle? Too many missions, too many opportunities to forget his daily pill. During the war the armed forces had put everyone, alphas and betas, on suppressants, but by the early sixties, while he was dormant, medical research had discovered that they were bad for you. The post-war baby boom had seen a lot of kids with unpleasant disabilities, thanks to their parents' use of sexual suppressants.

Nowadays, there were contraceptives for all dynamics, and for omegas like him, what they called modifiers, which allowed him to experience mild heats that didn't disrupt daily life. An omega with a partner could have a heat that lasted half a day, maybe a full twenty-four hours at worst, could even adjust their pill schedule so that their heats always came on their days off. Of course, superheroes didn't exactly have regular days off.

Steve had a bad feeling that his schedule had gone to hell and that this heat was going to be a doozy.

The only difference between the highway and the place where Steve stopped and parked the SUV was the sound of gravel under the tires instead of asphalt. Otherwise it was pitch dark with a vague suggestion of nearby trees, and the stars overhead. As Steve got out of the car, Darcy switched from her Kindle app to the flashlight before he opened her door. 

"This place belongs to Clint," Steve said. He grabbed their bags out of the back seat and took Darcy lightly by the arm. "Well hidden, well stocked. We'll be fine."

Darcy went with him up the gravel driveway and onto a porch. He opened a screen door, but the inside door had a keycode *and* a manual lock with a key. Darcy stopped just inside the door while Steve moved confidently through the dark. "Ah!" 

He had switched on a lamp, and they were in a large open house, a living and dining space with a kitchen divided off by a pass-through. Darcy felt her back muscles unclench at the sight of the fireplace, the long sofa with crocheted throws, the large refrigerator with kids' artwork tacked to the doors. This looked more like borrowing a friend's place for a weekend than hiding in a safe house.

She slung down her messenger bag and started pulling off her hat, coat, and scarf. There was a sturdy wooden coat tree just beside the door and a low rack beside it with a pair of rubber boots on it. Steve was checking out the place, turning on lights. She noticed that the windows were covered by heavy pine-green curtains. 

Steve came back into the main room and hung his own jacket on the coat tree. Darcy swayed a little as his scent hit her, something that felt like the smell of ripe fruit in the back of her throat, propelled by body heat that was even higher than Steve's normally high body temperature. Steve flushed bright red in a heartbeat and took a step back.

"I'm gonna… I'm gonna go take a shower."

He exited the room with superspeed. Red hot with embarrassment herself, Darcy went to putter around the kitchen and make friends with the superfancy hot beverage machine.

The late winter chill wouldn't have affected Steve normally, anyhow; it had to dip well below freezing before he minded it. With his body temperature spiking, he didn't think twice about walking into a cold shower. He only winced once or twice before getting wet all over and then rubbing pits and crotch with the bland scent-masking soap he used. Not that it would help for very long, but wiping off his own scent would help him think clearer for longer, so he could get Darcy comfortable before he retreated.

Darcy… in spite of her fear smell due to going on the run, her alpha response odor had been warm and inviting. Until Peggy, Steve hadn't met an alpha female who smelled good to him, and damn few alpha males. Since Peggy, there hadn't been anyone, until now. Natasha was attractive to him in a lot of ways, but she smelled wrong. It wasn't her fault; the Black Widows were all neuters, surgically castrated so they could spray on false scents and play any dynamic, whatever a mission required. Steve's nose had been hypersensitive even before the serum. Despite her enormous competence as an agent, Natasha off-duty smelled more like a child than an adult, and you didn't breed with children. She couldn't be more than a friend.

Darcy was so young… but she was an adult, and his body was still young, and Steve didn't know whether he wanted her company for this heat or not. In any case, his job at the moment was to take care of her, not the other way around. He got out of the shower and reached for the towel, thinking about what else needed to be done.

"I turned on the heat, but I can build a fire, too, if you like."

Darcy jumped at the sound of Steve's voice. "Sorry. Yeah, that sounds nice." Steve's skin was still pink, but he smelled different now; he must have a scent-masking soap. He gave her a wide berth as he went to the fireplace. She couldn't help following him with her eyes; he was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants with thick socks, and that butt…

She shook her head. She had no right to assume he would want her company during a heat. She had no right to even ask. Who knows, in his day that might have been as good as a proposal of marriage. She liked Steve and knew he was a good guy, not just CAPTAIN AMERICA, and Odin knew he was hot like burning, but she didn't want to bond the guy. Just… she didn't know what she wanted. She just couldn't stop looking at t-shirt stretched over his shoulders as he stooped by the fireplace, at the hard curve of his ass under the dark blue pants.

Belatedly, it occurred to Darcy that maybe that decaf mocha she'd brewed with the Stark machine in the kitchen might have been a bad idea, since chocolate was a sexual stimulant. Oops. She looked at what was left in the mug between her hands, gulped it, and licked her lips.

The fire was crackling now. Darcy headed for the comfy-looking hassock next to the hearth; at the same time, Steve backed away, one hand going to the back of his neck. "I'm gonna… I'll just--you know, I should check--"

"Steve." Darcy winced at the sound of her own voice. They were gonna have to do this, and it was gonna be awkward. But. "Steve, we have to talk."

"Talking only makes it worse." He looked like he regretted saying that. Darcy had to grin.

"Okay, now, keep that up and I'm gonna start calling you 'Grandpa'." She cocked a finger at him. "Your generation: Keep everything bottled up, talking makes it worse. My generation: Talk about it, process your emotions. Who died of more heart attacks, huh?"

"My generation died in the war," Steve muttered, and then looked furious. "Darcy, I'm sorry--"

"No, I'm sorry." She felt the tears welling up and sniffed hard. "This is just crap all around, okay? Some dumb AIM assholes wanna torture me for what I know, and you have to hide me away and keep me company, which would be bad enough except now, it just so happens you've gone into heat, because Captain America, surprise surprise, is not the alpha of all alphas, he's an omega who can forget his meds when he's busy just like anybody else, and instead of being with his real friends and partners, he's stuck with a stupid millenial who says stupid, awkward things--"

Okay, she was crying now. Way to make a bad situation worse, Lewis.

Steve thought for the millionth time that he never had learned to talk to dames. The heat was creeping up the back of his neck, he was beginning to feel slick, and now Darcy was crying. She had every right to cry, having to drop everything and run into hiding. She'd been doing real well up to now. She was tough.

It was just his luck that falling at the feet of an attractive alpha was both what he really wanted to do at the moment and what he kind of had to do in order to talk to Darcy and make things better. So he curled up at her feet, where she was hunched over on the hassock, and tried to ignore the heat of the fire and the smell of chocolate hanging around her, mixing with her alpha scent.

"Darcy, sweetheart, I'm sorry." He put a careful hand on her knee. This *is* a crappy situation, for both of us. You need somebody you can rely on to protect you, and I hate that I can't do that the way I want to, the way I normally would. You must be scared and--"

She stopped him with a hand on his cheek, a hand that felt way too good. "Steve, it's okay. I'm actually--" she sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand like a kid, "I'm really not that scared. If the AIM people weren't incompetent idiots, they'd have me already. They don't stand a chance against Bucky and the rest of the team. It wasn't even that inconvenient to pack up and come with you; I've been living out of suitcases, trailing after Jane for--well, too long now."

She sniffed again, and Steve got up and found some facial tissues on the kitchen island. He put the box on her lap and then sank down at her feet again. The fire was making him sweat (yeah, right), but it felt good to sit there and lean against her legs, even while she was blowing her nose and wiping her face.

"We're safe here, right? We're off the grid and everything." He nodded. "And we've got food and stuff."

"And weapons, just in case. Plenty of everything."

"So really, the next thing we have to worry about is you. Right?"

Her wide blue eyes were too kind and too penetrating. Steve let out a sigh that was almost a groan and rested his head on her knees.

Darcy rested a hand on his head, then ran her fingers through his hair. "I"m guessing you normally share your heats with Bucky."

"Yeah." It was harder to be embarrassed with her hand caressing him.

"Do you guys ever share with an alpha?"

"Sometimes. Not very often." He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Peggy--"

"Shh." Darcy petted his hair and he heard himself croon in response. "I'm guessing you probably want to just go off by yourself and tough it out, right? But I don't think that's a good idea right now. You *can't* do that, if you wanna be Captain America and take care of me. Because it'll be harder to go through a heat alone than if you let me share it. Okay?"  
Part of Darcy could not believe this was happening--Steve Rogers, Captain America, leader of the Avengers, was curled up around her legs, hotter than the nearby fire, and crooning while she petted him. And she was keeping her shit together and talking him into sharing his head with her, the heat that was rising higher and higher every minute. There was fine perspiration around his hairline now, and when she let her fingers drop to the back of his neck, it was so hot and wet that she yanked her hand away. Leaving it there was the next best thing to claiming him without his consent, but she couldn't resist lifting her hand to her face and smelling, oh god, the ripest, the headiest omega she had ever touched, like the omega equivalent of really expensive, really old French wine.

"Steve." Her voice was shaking. "It looks to me like your body is saying yes, but I need to hear your voice say it. I wanna see your face when you say it."

He rubbed his cheek on her knee. "I wish…."

"What, honey?"

"I wish Bucky were here."

Darcy fleetingly hoped that the former Winter Soldier would not feel honor-bound to beat her up for sharing a heat with his partner. "I know, honey, but I'm here. And I want to help you. May I claim you for this heat?" She hoped the formal language got through to him.

Steve raised his head from her knee and looked up at, a dreamy, almost drunken expression on his face. She'd never seen him look this relaxed. "I accept your claim. Please share this heat with me, Darcy Lewis. Please--"

His lips were always so goddamn full and red and perfect, and with them parted and moist, the fever-dew sparkling in his golden hair, she just had to kiss him. Steve moaned into her mouth, and she gave him her tongue and curled her hand around the back of his neck. God, he tasted as good as he smelled, and the chemical rush of him hit her like a shot of Erik's akvavit; pheromones, hormones, everything, she was well on her way to rut.

Okay. Time to act. Okay. One more kiss, or three. He was so fucking *pliant*. Okay. The fire was dying down. Darcy grabbed a poker and shoved at the remaining logs, separating them, until she was sure it was on its way to ash. Then she got to her feet, bringing a couple hundred pounds of compliant omega with her. She couldn't exactly sweep him off his feet, but he got the idea and swept her up, instead, heading for the stairs at the back of the house.

It was a lot cooler upstairs, though she could hear a low hiss from the central air. Steve, however, had become her own portable heater. His face was flushed and he was breathing deeply, and not because he'd exerted himself carrying her up the stairs like Rhett Butler with Scarlet O'Hara. 

A small lamp on a table lit a narrow hallway. She saw three doors: Two bedrooms and a bath? Steve headed for the door on the right without any hesitation. A lighted floor lamp showed her luggage next to a queen-sized bed covered with a beautiful though faded quilt.

Steve laid her on the bed and dropped to his knees on the floor beside her, nuzzling her hand. As much as she wanted to get her face into his neck, she wasn't gonna ruin what felt like a vintage quilt, or do a crap job of being the alpha. "Steve. Steven. Sit up."

He obeyed promptly, fixing his bright, intoxicated eyes on her face. "I'm gonna look for supplies, okay? While I do that, I want you to take this nice quilt off the bed, put it out of the way, and then turn down the covers."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hoo, boy, she could get used to hearing that on a regular basis! While Steve was following her orders with military precision, she checked out a door to the right of the bed. It led, as she had hoped, to a large linen closet that had another door opening onto the bathroom. There was beads of water on the inside of the shower door and a damp dark blue towel neatly hung up.

The linen closet held towels and rugs for the bathroom, sheets and other stuff for the bed, and, bingo! A heat pad, lube, condoms, plugs, dildos. She pushed aside any consideration of Clint Barton's marital life and made a bundle of everything in the heat pad.

Steve was standing by the bed, waiting for her. The bed had been turned down like Madeline or somebody was going to go to sleep there after kneeling in prayer or hearing Julie Andrews sing a lullaby. Darcy dropped her bundle of goodies on the bed and spread it out. "Look what we got here, Steve, a heat pad and all sorts of things to have fun with!"

Steve helped her spread out the heat pad to cover the bed. She wondered if they had such a thing when he first came into heat? One side thick and absorbent, the other side moisture-proof and textured to cling to any surface and prevent slipping, the second-best invention of the last hundred years (the iPod was still her choice for the best).

"Can I take my clothes off now, Darcy? May I, huh?"

It was such a relief to peel his clothes off in the cool air of the bedroom. Such a relief to have a good, caring alpha to share his heat with. Darcy was a good person, a good friend to Jane and Thor, a civilian who treated him like Steve and not Cap; he could trust her to take good care of him. It would all be good.

He'd been fully hard for a while, and he was really slicking up now, now that he wasn't trying to pay attention to anything else. He shifted from foot to foot as Darcy undressed down to her bra and panties, her rich scent getting stronger in the room with every piece of clothing she discarded. She smelled like the incense that used to be so thick in church when he was a kid, that they hardly ever used any more; churches now seemed so cold and bright and glaring, sterile as a hospital hallway, but Darcy's scent made him think of St. Jude's way back when, dim but full of the shimmer of candles and the movement of colored light as the sun moved across the stained glass windows, the smoke of the incense rising up toward the ceiling in a holy cloud, the voices of the choirboys echoing.

Darcy knelt on the bed and Steve took that as the signal to join her, lying down and spreading his legs. "Darcy. Darce. I'm really gone now."

"I know, Steve. It's okay." She moved closer and leaned over him, her thick heavy hair falling over his face. He groaned and raised his face hungrily for a kiss.

Darcy figured it was time to accept consent as given and start getting busy. She had a naked Steve Rogers, hard and dripping and smelling like a whole orchard of winesaps, a field of hyacinths in bloom, on the bed and spreading his legs for her, obviously begging for a kiss--come on, Lewis, the water's warm, jump in! She jumped, pressing her mouth to his and draping herself over him as they kissed. Steve whimpered into her mouth and Darcy whimpered back; all that hot skin over acres of muscle was smooth as silk, soft as fur. Metaphors failed her, and she buried her face in his neck, scenting, licking, running one hand over his chest and belly and getting the other up under his arm and shoulder to grasp his hair just above his neck.

He cried out sharply when she nosed one spot, and there, that was it--the spot where Bucky had bitten to bond him. Darcy nodded and slid down Steve's body to set her teeth against his collarbone and nip, as hard as she could, while getting her hand around his cock.

Steve's hips came off the bed, his whole body shaking, and he erupted like a fucking volcano, spilling hot over her frantically stroking hand. Thank god for the wipes she'd found, because he came *so much*, like, a gallon, oh my god. She started to get off the bed and he whimpered, "No, Darcy," and clutched at her.

"Steve, honey, it's okay, I just want to get some towels, it's okay, I'll be right back."

She cleaned up the spillage with a dry towel and then a moist wipe. Steve stayed 100% hard through the whole process; she wondered if he was always like that, or only during his heat. His eyes followed her movements, a tiny smile on his lips, and he kept a hand on her whenever she was close enough.

She draped herself over him again, scenting his throat, kissing him, nipping along his collarbone. His cock nestled between her thighs, but he didn't try to thrust; her little movements rubbed the head of it along her lips, over her clit, and she was plenty turned on, wet enough to smell, her clit stiff and throbbing. 

"What do you want, Steve, what do you need?" She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "How can I make this good for you?"

Steve took a deep breath and let it out. Coming like that had taken the edge off just enough that he could answer Darcy's question and not just whimper helplessly for her to take care of him. "I need--I gotta have p-penetration."

She gave him another kiss and he rubbed restlessly against her. "No problem, Steve, we got dildos, we got plugs."

"Not those--not yet." He swallowed hard. Somehow it was harder to ask for what he wanted when he was already hot and crazy; it was easier when he could make plans ahead of time and negotiate in advance. "Your hand, Darcy. I want you to fuck me with your hand."

The look of dismay on her face filled him with shame and panic. "I've never--is that even possible?"

He laughed breathlessly. "Bucky does it. Bucky's a beta. Other alphas--" Female alphas, he didn't say. He and Peg had not had enough time together during the war, but he still jerked off to memories of the couple of times she and Buck together had taken him on, Bucky holding him still while Peg rolled her curled fist inside him. "I can talk you through it. Please? Please--"

She shut him up with a long, hungry kiss full of bites and licks that reassured him. "Okay. Okay, we can do this, it's great. But I'm gonna look for gloves, okay? Because I don't wanna hurt you with my fingernails."

"Right, okay." He rolled over to watch her scurry to the closet, root around, come back with a box of latex disposables. He didn't really like the gloves, but he couldn't argue with her desire not to hurt him. She put the box down on the bed, then paused to strip off her bra and panties, giving him a glorious view of her large, lush breasts, soft belly, and furred crotch. The ocean scent of her juices joined the cocktail of heat-smells in the room.

"Here we go, Steve." He drew up his legs against his chest, watching her pull on a glove and smooth it carefully over her small hand.

"Three fingers," he said. "Start with three. Trust me, it'll work."

Darcy bit her lip, trying to keep some control. Seeing this gorgeous man spread for her, his heavy pecs bunched up, belly muscles fluttering, thighs quivering with the effort of holding back, brought all the alpha instincts to the yard. She wanted to bite and growl and fuck him and ride him. Getting her whole hand inside his body, which had sounded impossible at first, was looking more and more like a really great idea.

Steve was right--three fingers slid in easily, no need for extra lube. Steve moaned deliciously, and gods, he was so hot inside, so supple. She curled her fingers up toward his prostate and his whole body rippled around her. She pulled out only to go right back in with four fingers, feeling him stretch only when she reached her knuckles.

"Oh God Darcy that's good. That's so good. Ooh--"

He moaned loud enough to be heard back in Manhattan when she wrapped her other hand around his cock. It only took about ninety seconds of fucking him with her fingers while she stroked him fast and firmly for Steve to hit orgasm number two.

While he was panting (and she was admiring those incredible eyelashes, mascara never looked that good), Darcy poured some lube on her gloved hand and seized the moment. She tucked her thumb into the middle of her palm and pressed into Steve again.

Her knuckles touched his flesh and she stopped. Whimpering, Steve pushed against her. Keeping her eyes on his face, she pressed forward slowly, but without stopping, until with a soft wet pop her whole hand sank into his ass.

"Oh my god," she whispered, looking at it, where her hand was completely embedded up to the wrist. And back to Steve's face, which was utterly blissful. His muscles pulsed around her; his cock throbbed visibly in the same rhythm, without ejaculating. She reached to stroke him, but he shook his head, "No," barely audible.

"Fuck me," Steve managed. "Move your hand, please, please, it's so good."

Darcy rotated her hand inside him, pulling a wail of pleasure from his throat. Her hand was small, but it was good, so good, warm, a presence, being joined to his alpha and not just stuffed with something artificial, like a child with a pacifier. God, he loved alpha females, he loved being fucked like this. Steve thrust against her and she captured his momentum, short motions that were back-and-forth more than in-and-out, and he might, he might just come again, he might just empty his balls a third time if she kept that up, if she--

She bent over him and bit his collarbone, harder than before, and he did come, his voice breaking as if his whole body was breaking apart.

Darcy got her hand out of Steve even more carefully than she had got it in. She peeled off the glove inside out, tossed it over her shoulder, and flopped down over Steve, nuzzling his neck. He smelled of come and satisfaction, and she petted his chest. "Give me a minute, Steve." He murmured wordlessly and put his arms around her, gathering her close. "Give me a minute and I'll mount you, okay?"

"That was good, Darcy." He kissed her forehead. "You were so good."

"Good" didn't begin to cover it. "Intense" was in the ballpark. Steve was still hard as vibranium, but he was calm and relaxed (and who wouldn't be after three orgasms?) She was the one who was a little shaky now after that experience. Steve seemed to have picked up on that, though; he was holding her and petting her hair, making a low purr of pleasure in his chest.

Steve's hands didn't stop wandering; in fact, they started wandering further, stroking her breasts, touching her belly. It was half-arousing and half-soothing, and Darcy might have fallen asleep if he hadn't kissed her, all soft hungry lips, and asked, against her throat, "Darcy, can I--can I fuck you? Would you lay under for me?"

Like she was going to say no to that. She flipped over onto her back and Steve slid right in, oh, *fuck*, he was big, he was hot, every alpha she'd ever fucked who'd bragged about himself would be ashamed if they saw Steve Rogers in action. Steve braced himself on his hands, helpfully making all those magnificent muscles in his arms and chest and shoulders stand out in the best possible way, and fucked her with a smooth relentless rhythm until she was making raw screaming noises, the kind of noises she thought only desperate omegas in porno would make, and somehow didn't hit her cervix or slam her up against the headboard.

Darcy was gasping desperately when he suddenly moaned, and shook, and came *again*, what was that, four times? "Darcy," he breathed, lowering his weight onto her but throwing his head back, baring his throat.

"Yesss," she responded, and scented and licked that hot smooth damp column until she found just the right spot to set her teeth and bite. Not deep, but sharply. Steve cried out, and rolled both of them over so she was astride him.

"Oh, fuck," Darcy said, backing down his thighs. He was still hard, sticky with his own come, thighs glistening with heat-slick. He'd wanted to give her something, just to please her, but now he needed, more than ever, he needed to be mounted, he needed to *mate*.

"Darcy, please, put a plug in me, a big one, please, okay? Okay?"

She had to fumble for it, but he groaned in relief as the plug filled him up, bigger than her fist if not so good, not warm and alive. Then she swung a leg over his hips and mounted him. 

She was grateful he'd already fucked her, because sitting down on him was a shock, even so. He felt bigger, went deeper; she could almost feel the plug inside him, pressing his cock forward. He reached for her and she wove their fingers together, pressed palm to palm like Romeo and Juliet; when she started to move, his grip gave her the leverage she needed.

He was all right now; the heat would break. His alpha had plugged him and mounted him. It felt even better to have her riding him that it had to put her under him. Darcy was round and soft the way he liked a woman to be; her loose hair waved around her shoulders, her breasts and belly swayed with her movements. Her clitoris rubbed back and forth, back and forth along the groove at the base of his cock, swollen now with the full flush of his heat; it wouldn't be long before she docked.

Darcy cried out suddenly, a high surprised sound, and her muscles clamped fiercely around Steve's cock. He thrust up in response, gripping her hands so hard they turned white, and let go at once, for fear of hurting her. He felt the sweet, sharp shock of docking, her clitoris entering the base of his cock, alpha female penetrating omega male. Christ, it had been so long....

Steve went limp underneath her, so limp that Darcy worried for a sec. But the expression on his face was utter bliss; he was flushed and smiling, face and body looser than she had ever seen or even imagined him. Her thighs were trembling, her vaginal muscles locked on his cock; he was actually quivering inside her, coming without ejaculating, and she could feel herself building up to her own ejaculation. Just a little more... she palmed her breasts, tugged at her nipples, rotated her hips a couple of times and *there*--Darcy moaned, Steve moaned, and she let herself sink forward onto his chest while she spurted into him.

"Wow," Darcy said at last. Steve stirred and stroked her hair.

"Yeah." He stroked her hair some more, drawing his fingers through it.

Darcy sat up, slowly, and winced. Docking didn't take as long as knotting with an alpha male, but her clit was tender afterward. She hadn't had sex with an omega in... well, way too long, because for sheer physical yowza, there was nothing to compare with it. Her arms and legs were all shaky as she lifted herself off of Steve and dropped like a ton of bricks beside him.

"You feelin' okay?" He sounded more normal.

"Yeah." She snuffled. "Mostly. You?"

"I'm good." He turned on his side to face her, smoothing back her hair and smiling. "I think my heat might be over. You did good, Darcy. Maybe we could get something to eat in a coupla minutes?"

She was about to say that that sounded like a great idea when they both heard the noise downstairs.

Ordinarily Steve would have been on his feet in a crisis situation before Darcy could blink, but ordinarily Steve was not happily heat-fucked and stuffed with a plug. Nor was Darcy usually high on pheromones and feeling her alpha nature. Presumably that explained why Darcy, still naked and unarmed, vaulted over Steve and off the bed and charged down the steps before Steve could raise a hand.

By the time he had jumped into his pants and followed her, the sounds of a break-in and fighting had been replaced by the sounds of… laughter? Steve found Darcy on the couch, wrapped head to foot in a crocheted throw with only the tip of her nose sticking out, and his partner Bucky Barnes, the Avenger still occasionally known as the Winter Soldier, standing over a couple of fallen bodies and laughing his ass off.

"Bucky?"

Natasha Romanov stuck her head under Bucky's arm and slipped into the room. Her lips were twitching, which was as close as she ever got to laughing out loud while on duty. "We followed you here and waited for the AIM guys, because Barnes had a feeling you'd screw up somehow." She jerked her chin at the bodies on the floor. "They got the jump on Wilson and broke in, only to run into Lewis."

Bucky made a wild gesture with his right hand, encompassing the entire situation. "They ran into five feet of naked alpha bitch with great tits snarling at them! Jesus, best distraction I've ever seen."

Darcy growled from inside the throw.

"That's no way to talk to a lady, Buck." Steve came up behind Darcy and felt for her shoulder. One hand came out of the layers of soft purple, white, and gold to grip his. "Especially not a lady who helped me out in a pinch."

Natasha cracked a smile. "I'll just herd everybody else away, okay? Barnes, you can ride back to Manhattan with alpha and omega." The door whisked shut behind her before anybody could say anything, then reopened. "Oops, almost forgot about these knuckleheads."

Barnes helped Natasha drag the two unconscious AIM goons outside, no doubt to be ziptied and hauled away. Once the door was shut, he unburdened himself of a rifle, two, no, three guns, and a frighteningly large knife before peeling off his tac jacket and approaching Darcy. "Did you take care of my boy, Lewis? Had to start protecting him when he thought he was protecting you?"

Darcy sat up straight and let her head and shoulders come out of the throw. If she was going to die at the hands of the Winter Soldier, she wanted to go out with *some* dignity, or at least with good posture. "Steve went into heat. He's an omega, I'm an alpha. I gave him what he needed."

Bucky Winter Soldier Barnes smiling at her was not necessarily reassuring. However, a scent that wasn't adrenalin and gunshot residue and blood was beginning to waft off of him. He stripped off his thermal shirt--he had on a plain white undershirt still--and slowly knelt a few feet away from Darcy.

"I know you take care of Thor's scientist lady friend. Haven't heard anything bad about you, which is more than you can say for me." His smile turned rueful, but he took off his gloves, both hands, and offered her his right hand, palm up. "Steve has always liked the alpha ladies. And I've always trusted his judgment." He bent his head.

Darcy realized he was offering to exchange scents. With her. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, the most important person in Steve Rogers' life. With a glance at Steve, who was smiling, she wiggled her arm out of the throw and laid her hand in Bucky's. Bucky, very properly, very politely, touched his lips to her wrist, his thumb pressing gently into her palm.

Like Steve, his hand felt warmer than average, especially for somebody who had just come indoors on a chilly night. Darcy raised her hand to her face when he let go. Gunpowder, metal, tobacco, and the tea-like scent of beta arousal. Behind her, Steve's scent began ramping up from the sweet, cider-like diffusion of satisfaction into the intoxicating scent of fermentation, a whole orchard of apples falling to the moist earth at once with their leaves around them….

"Maybe we'd better take this upstairs?" Bucky said, and then Steve was practically sprinting up the steps again and Bucky had swept up Darcy in his arms and followed.


End file.
